Bloody Sacrament
by moonlight gal
Summary: The 12th century, Persia, where the existence of the Hashashiyyin is quickly becoming a reality. After being forcibly converted from lowly guard to Fresh Hashashin, Lelouch Lamperouge realises how dark and binding the core of his Order's Creed may be.


**_Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass._**

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**Prologue: To Kill The Evil Within The Evil**

_Market-place of Ecbatana, Ancient Persia, September 23rd, Year 1187_

The narrow streets of Ecbatana, despite the city's noticeably small size, were almost always busy, more particularly at two times; the crack of dawn, and the height of noon. During the former, the common streets were a sight to behold. At its peek, the light of the sun glimmered off the many polished jewels clutched in the hands of street vendors, as they were thrust towards several of the women bustling about. The streets resonated with a cacophony of different voices; of vendors selling their goods, of toddlers crying, of mothers scolding their children, of the creak of wooden caravans, or wheels being dragged on uneven roads, and occassionally, of the thump made by a horse's hoof, as a guard or two passed by on horseback.

The streets of Ecbatana were lovely at noon; Suzaku Kururugi could testify to this— even the streets of glorious Arabia were no match. Unfortunately, the experience was not nearly so pleasant when he had to be the unlucky soul disrupting its normality.

The man ran through the busy street, frantically shouldering his way through the crowd. His eyes, shrouded in the shadow of his hood, darted left and right, searching for an escape route. He took in sharp breaths and pants from between his parted lips, and the man was far, far too aware of the ominous presence that seemed to be getting nearer with every passing second.

_'If I get caught now, no doubt Lelouch is going to have my head—' _the myriad of thought broke abruptly as he bumped into a fruit vendor, leaving his green apples scattered on the ground.

Speeding up, he ignored the infuriated call of the vendor. It seemed as if the presence was nothing less than a lingering shadow, and he didn't dare to glance back and check if it was still persisting to follow, because it surely was.

The crowd was becoming less dense, his mind registered._ That wasn't good_. Swiftly, he pushed his feet off the ground with a burst of strength, and jumped onto the stall of a nearby fish vendor. Grimacing when he felt his bare feet touch slimy, scaly flesh, he grabbed the tattered cloth at the top of the stall and looked down, over his shoulder. A muscular, bulky man followed him closely, and he cursed.

He hoisted himself up the stall. Casting a critical eye over the improperly-architectured building in front, he sighed and gripped a low window ledge. Barely refraining from letting a smirk surface at the horrified gasp of the woman inside the house, he climbed quickly, grabbing ledges, window-sills, protruding bricks and stones, and the rusting metal bars of patios.

It was becoming very tiring, very quickly. Consequently, he shifted to the other side of the building and jumped down onto the now-deserted street. Ducking into an alleyway, he pulled his hood further over his eyes in caution. Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps just behind him, Suzaku smiled.

_'I made it.' _

He pressed his back against the wall of the alley. The large man following him smiled maliciously, and Suzaku resisted to urge to smile at him in return. In amusement, he thought, _'Don't want to give anything away, do we?'_

"Any last words, _sir_?" the man mocked. "I would gladly pass them on to your... _dear_ _friend_." He spat out the latter words as if they were the most poisonous venom in existence.

"No need," he replied unfinchingly.

The man's eyes flashed dangerously, and his smile faltered. He pulled his blade out of its intricate sheath with a sound akin to an ill-omen.

"I'm going to have to advise you not to taunt me, street rat."

The addressed street rat wisely chose to remain silent.

"That's enough chatter then," the man, nearly at the end of his patience, declared. A dry, humourless smile spread across his lips yet again, and he proclaimed, "Don't worry, I'm kind enough to do your friend the honor of killing him with the same blade, bathed in your blood. You die today."

The blade was raised high, and the blade was dropped subsequently. The man's jaw unexpectedly went slack, and his arms became limp. Suzaku's shoulders finally relaxed. Letting loose a grin, he crossed his arms and murmured to the trembling man, "I'm afraid that won't be necessary."

The man convulsed once, before his knees abruptly buckled. He collapsed face-first into the jagged, muddy, and littered ground of the alley. His violent trembling ceased when he landed in a scarlet pool of his own blood, revealing two throwing knives expertly embedded in his back.

He allowed his grin to widen ever-so-slightly, before his calloused hand, heavy with the weight of many rings and perspiration, gripped the back of his hood and pulled it back to reveal a pair of stormy grey eyes, twinkling with mischief and hidden awe. Tentatively, he craned his neck upwards, raising his gaze to the top of the poorly-structured building he had climbed mere minutes ago. His cerulean eyes immediately clashed with ones the colour of darkest amethyst. He let his sight wander, roaming over the head wrapped in thick cloth, and the veiled mouth and nose.

"Perfect timing, as usual, _dost min,_" he voiced his approval.

"Flattery is too old a trick, Suzaku," came a smooth voice from behind the cloth, muffled and vague, but catching it was no arduous task for trained ears. "It was unwise of you to climb the building. You are aware of what could have happened, had you reached the top, where I waited?"

"I am. I apologize, but the streets were busier than usual today."

The man atop the building kneeled down to clutch at what seemed like bloodied cloth to Suzaku. In a single swift movement, he carelessly pulled at the blood-red cloth and threw it down the edge of the building. Only, the blood-soaked cloth was accompanied by two blood-soaked bodies as well, as Suzaku found out when they hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Hide them somewhere," the man ordered, climbing down with what seemed like God-given agility. "Problems will arise if they are found, as I'm sure you know."

"The haystacks and stables may very well be full by now," Suzaku mentioned off-handedly, frowning. "I'm quite sure I told you to not to kill more than one on the way, Lelouch."

Amused, amethyst eyes glanced indifferently at the cascass. "And where's the fun in that?"

"You have nothing else to do with your time, friend? Why not participate in, I don't know, community service, or something of the sort?"

"Planned assassination is the most beneficial form of community service, I would say."

"You seem to have a natural talent for archery," Suzaku said, ignoring the previous quip of his companion to stifle his irritation. He kneeled down to examine the clean throws at the back of the first carcass. "Perhaps I should smuggle you a crossbow later?"

"My hood."

"Hm?" His gaze rose to meet an out-stretched hand. "Oh, yes. Your hood. You gave it to me, didn't you? For the assassination."

"_Lent _it, not gave it."

"Yes, yes," he responded dismissively, pulling off the torn, fading-black hood draped over his form. "We had him fooled, by the way; he thought I was you, probably because of that hood, I would assume. It seems to be what defines you nowadays. And rightly so—"

"Enough of that," Lelouch intervened, pulling away the cloth wrapped tightly around his head, mouth, and nose, and quickly replaced it with a hood he seemed to be infinitely fond of. "We should be getting back. You are aware of how particular _Mualim _is about timing?"

"Hashashiyyin are never on time, they are always early," the other recited and nodded. With both pairs of eyes concealed, and mouths forming firm, nuetral lines, the two strode out of the alleyway side by side, into the ignorant crowd of Ecbatana, faces hidden, and motives guarded.

_Far-eastern Ecbatana, Ancient Persia, September 24th, Year 1187_

"Aswad is dead?"

"Yes."

The two assassins, clad in dirty, off-white robes ("Helps to blend in with the crowd," Lelouch had said,) stood before an elderly-looking man, wrinkles marring his stern face. His stone-hard eyes regarded them with careful speculation. He folded his hands behind his back, and wordlessly turned his back to the two men.

"I trust you knew better than to kill him without any course of action," he said quietly. "That would give his allies reason to believe that we wanted him dead. It would create problems, as I'm sure you are aware."

Suzaku opened his mouth to object, unheeding of the warning glare from his companion. Respectfully, he inquired, "We _did _want him dead, did we not, _Mualim_?"

"Of course we did, child. However, we did not kill him in cold blood, as his allies will surely believe. We are Hashashiyyin. Hashashiyyin do not kill without reason," _Mualim_ spoke, wisdom lacing his words.

"Wh—" Suzaku began, before he felt the nails of his fellow assassin digging into his wrist in warning. A hiss of pain escaped him, and _Mualim _tilted his head to face them.

"You are wondering what the reason for this assassination was?"

Tentatively, Suzaku nodded. Lelouch's shoulders tensed in response.

"That is not information you are worthy of knowing, currently. You may leave."

Suzaku paused. Hesitantly, he objected, "Is it not our right to know why we kill the ones we do, _Mualim, _as human beings? I— we had no information as to what crime Aswad had committed, we simply assassinated him on your orders."

_Mualim _paused briefly. Sighing, he sternly asked, "Lelouch, what drug did you take before the killing?"

Startled, the violet-eyed assassin stammered, "_Mualim, _that is-"

"What drug did you take?"

Amethyst eyes glazed over in contemplation. "Hashish."

"What did it do?"

"It... made me forget."

"Forget?"

"Forget who— who I was going to kill, and why I was going to do so. I was engulfed in an illusion; an illusion that my actions were simply a part of what I was doing, not what I _must _do. It made me temporarily forget who I was."

"And who _are _you, Lelouch?"

"One of the Hashashiyyin."

"Correct," he approved. "Suzaku, you are an infant to this order. We Hashashiyyin are never truly aware of what we have done— and _why _we have done it— until the deed has already been completed. You are a near stranger to killing. Your hands have yet to be bathed in blood which does not belong to you. Your sword has yet to pierce the flesh of a victim. Being unaware of _reason _and _logic _during an assassination is what true Hashashiyyin eventually come to crave. Asking to be aware of something that will make your sword-wielding hand hesitate is foolishness, child."

"But we have already—"

"If you did not ask for the reasons while you shed Aswad's blood, you shan't do so now," he said with finality. "Lelouch, do tell me the course of the killing."

With no identifiable trace of reluctance, the addressed assassin informed, "Suzaku crashed into one of his stalls on horseback, making sure his face was unveiled, in an attempt to make it seem like an accident. I pocketed his goods in clear view. Aswad is a petty man; he chased us until we outran him, and I temporarily gave Suzaku my robes to wear. He soon made himself known and led Aswad near the guarded mansion of a nobleman, on the roof of which I waited. In an alleyway, I killed him from a distance. When he is found, he will be thought to have died by the hands of a guard. We stole the armour of a guard as well, leaving his body next to Aswad. His allies will most probably believe that the guard was one of us, killed along with Aswad."

"Good. You may go."

They bowed, shuffling their feet and walking towards the large mahogany double-doors with a grace and self-confidence only the assassins of Ecbatana were known to possess.

"Suzaku," _Mualim _called, his eyes not straying from the book he was holding. "It is your right to know as a human being. It is not, however, your right as a Hashashin."

Suzaku's eyesbrows briefly furrowed together in confusion and inner conflict, before he bowed and exited silently.

_Far-eastern Ecbatana, Ancient Persia, September 24th, Year 1187_

"Lelouch, _Mualim _is rather secretive, is he not?"

Deep violet eyes flickered from the brown pages of a book to the contemplative gaze of his friend. Sighing, he closed the book with a decisive thump, and reprimanded, "Such implications will get you executed, Suzaku. Watch your tongue— when you are in the company of fellow Hasashiyyin, at least."

"I implied nothing!" Suzaku indignantly snapped, cheeks flushed a slight pink.

"This is the way we do things," Lelouch continued, ignoring Suzaku's sputtering. "'We strive to kill the evil within the evil itself, within the darkness.' _Darkness_, Suzaku, where one cannot see, and where one cannot question. It is a creed you best not dishonour."

"Have you ever? Questioned it, I mean. You must have, surely."

"I thought I told you not to discuss this here," Lelouch hissed angrily, eyes narrowing.

"The walls of an empty room have no ears, friend," Suzaku rebutted, grinning lop-sidedly. "Well? Did you?"

Lelouch's jaw clenched, before he sighed in defeat. Reaching behind his neck, he pulled up his hood until it shadowed his ever-guarded eyes. With an underlying brotherly fondness for his stubborn companion, he murmured, "A few times, I suppose. When I was Fresh."

"Oh?" Suzaku leaned forward. "Do tell."

"Not quite the right time and place, _friend_. Later, perhaps."

"You promise?"

Lelouch allowed a low chuckle to escape his lips. With a faint smirk, he quipped, "Such foolish sentiments, Suzaku. Hashashiyyin break promises everyday, I'll have you know."

Suzaku's stormy eyes dulled with sorrow. Smiling regretfully, he said, "It is... sad, I think, that we are not allowed to live while truly feeling alive, even if we chose this path of our own will."

"We strive to kill the evil within the evil itself, within the darkness."

With thirteen words being imprinted onto his memory, Suzaku was left to stare at Lelouch's retreating back with sadness. Determination clearing the haze of puzzlement from his eyes, he slowly lifted the sleeve of his cloak, uncovering an intricate burnt mark on his wrist. Raising it to his lips, he kissed it softly, and fiercely whispered, "We strive to kill the evil within the evil itself, within the darkness."

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End file.
